


Niece To Meet You

by jinkandtherebels



Series: BOTB 'verse [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Babyfic, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: Sasuke’s pretty sure he barely slept more than the new parents for the first week Asuna was home.





	Niece To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Six: "Domestic AU".
> 
> What do you mean I haven't updated this series in (checks notes)...four years??
> 
> What can I say, 2019 is shaping up to be the Year of Resurrection for my long-dormant fics. And hopefully I get bonus points for the terrible, terrible title pun. Enjoy!

.

_We are FIGHTING DREAMERS!_

The ringtone blares through Sasuke’s sleeping brain like a fucking tornado siren, ripping him back into consciousness. For a few seconds the only thought in his bleary mind is that he _hates_ Shisui. Hates him so much.

_Right here! Right now! BANG!_

“I hate you,” Sasuke mumbles into his pillow, feeling around on the bedside table for his phone. “Hate you, hate you, hate you…”

He’s still chanting his litany of loathing when his fingers find the vibrating cell and pull it to his face. Sasuke squints at the harsh glare of the digital numbers: it’s just past four in the morning. He is going to murder Shisui, no matter that his contacts _still_ list the madman as _Your Favorite_ _Brother-In-Law_ (he’s given up trying to change it).

Somehow his fingers succeed in sliding the phone open, but Sasuke hasn’t even managed to growl a half-awake “_What_” when Shisui interrupts him with,

“Izumi’s in labor.”

Oh, _shit_.

Sasuke’s feet are hitting the floor before he even realizes he’s moving. Shisui has already hung up. Sasuke only remembers at the last second to throw on some actual pants, and is hopping frantically on one foot towards the door when a muffled groan comes from the bed he’s just vacated.

“Wuzzgonon?” says a patch of blond fluff on a pillow, half-smothered in shamelessly hoarded blankets. Sasuke’s still-not-quite-awake mind snickers that he’s been sleeping with a Muppet all this time and never noticed.

“Izumi’s having the kid,” he says. “I’ll call you when there _is_ a kid. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmkay,” Naruto says sleepily. “Go be ‘n awesome uncle.”

The snoring has resumed by the time Sasuke leaves the bedroom.

.

He probably breaks the sound barrier driving to the hospital. He definitely breaks about twelve different road laws (and is iffy on several more). If a single cop had seen Sasuke blazing down the highway in the middle of the night he probably wouldn’t see daylight again until Schrodinger’s Kid was out of college.

As it is, Sasuke bursts into the building like a storm and skids to a halt in front of the front desk. The receptionist watches him with an unimpressed look on her face; Sasuke can only assume that working the skeleton shift at a hospital has acquainted her with more than her fair share of crazies.

“Can I help you?” she asks tiredly. Sasuke’s pretty sure she’s reaching for a can of Mace under the counter. He tries to tamp down on what his therapist calls his “intensity of expression”.

“My brothers are having a kid,” he says. Then, realizing how batshit that probably sounded, “I mean, their surrogate is—”

“Name?” the receptionist interrupts.

“Itachi Uchiha.”

She checks it against some kind of list, presumably, before looking back up at him with a brisk, “Room 27.”

“Thank you,” Sasuke manages before power-walking-not—oh fuck it, he’s running down the hallway.

(He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway down said hallway that he’d forgotten to call Shisui his dumbass brother-in-law. Oh well. Sasuke is pretty sure this counts as extenuating circumstances.)

He sees Itachi first. His big brother is sitting in an uncomfortable-looking foldout chair outside the door, and anyone walking by would probably be tricked into thinking he’s totally relaxed. But Sasuke can see the tension in his shoulders—Itachi’s back is ramrod-straight, his eyes are closed and he’s breathing slow, like he’s meditating. Like he used to do when they were younger and the panic attacks were coming on.

Shisui, predictably, is in motion, pacing back and forth in front of Itachi’s chair and probably wearing tread marks into the floor. His hair is even more of a riot than usual, curls sticking up everywhere in haphazard tufts. He’s running his fingers through it again even as Sasuke reaches them.

“Hello, Sasuke,” Itachi says without opening his eyes. Shisui doesn’t even look at him; instead he makes a strangled noise that was probably supposed to be a greeting and keeps pacing.

Sasuke has to fight a probably inappropriate urge to laugh. If they’ve both cracked at the same time, this poor kid is fucked.

“So,” Sasuke says, partly just to test the words out. “You’re gonna be dads.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Shisui croaks, which Sasuke would mock as typically overdramatic if his cousin hadn’t just turned an unflattering shade of green.

“Please try to aim for a trash bin,” Itachi says. “I imagine the night nurses have enough to deal with as it is.”

His tone is disturbingly serene. Not for the first time, Sasuke wonders if his brother has ascended to a higher plane of existence while nobody was paying attention.

“Why aren’t either of you in there, anyway?” he asks.

“Izumi,” Shisui says grimly. “She threw us out on our asses. Said she didn’t want anybody near her unless they were administering pain meds.”

“And so we wait,” Itachi intones.

Sasuke waits with them. He makes himself as comfortable as possible (read: not very) in one of the angular metal chairs next to Itachi, spinning the same Pokestop on his phone over and over and trying not to think too much. Itachi continues to stay unnervingly still; Sasuke glances over every few minutes to make sure his brother is still breathing.

Hours pass. He can only assume Izumi’s hospital room has been thoroughly soundproofed, because there’s no sounds whatsoever that might hint at when this whole thing might be over. Eventually even Shisui can’t pace anymore, sinking down in the chair on Itachi’s other side with an air of utter exhaustion.

“Shit,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. They’ve got dark circles under them.

Wordlessly, his own eyes still closed, Itachi leans over and rests his head on Shisui’s shoulder.

Sasuke slumps in his chair and thinks about texting Naruto. He could use a coffee, and not the watery shit that passes for it in hospital cafeterias.

But they all jolt to attention when the door to Izumi’s room opens. Shisui stands up so fast he dislodges Itachi, who almost tips sideways onto the linoleum before managing to right himself.

The nurse is smiling. “Congratulations. Everything went perfectly, and the mother and baby are both doing just fine. Would you like to meet your daughter?”

Itachi stands up before Sasuke can see his face. Shisui has gone bone-white, which Sasuke would again find hilarious if he weren’t so damn tired.

(And relieved. Okay, so there’s more than a little relief buried in there.)

“Yes, please,” Itachi says. He sounds calm, but as the nurse turns to lead them into the room he reaches for Shisui’s hand. Sasuke pretends not to notice. He’ll consider it a birthday gift to his niece: for one night only he’ll quit mercilessly mocking her dads.

Dads. _Niece_. Shit.

Itachi and Shisui walk into the room. Steadfastly ignoring the acrobatics in his stomach, Sasuke follows them.

.

Asuna has been home for a few days when Sasuke decides the coast is clear for him to visit. He assumes it’s late enough in the day that her newly minted grandparents (formerly known as Sasuke’s mother and father) have already been and gone, and since immediate family are pretty much the only ones allowed inside Itachi’s Baby Quarantine at the moment, Sasuke figures he’ll be spared anyone else’s cooing.

Not that they _shouldn’t_ be cooing, of course. Asuna is an Uchiha (genetics be damned) and therefore perfect.

(Naruto is very sad about the aforementioned quarantine. Sasuke is secretly a little relieved; he’s not sure what the sight of his boyfriend holding a baby will do to him, but he’s resigned himself to the fact that it will be disgusting.)

There’s a little sign on the door of Itachi and Shisui’s apartment that reads “Baby Sleeping, Please Do Not Knock”. Which, as far as Sasuke’s concerned, is a _genius_ way of making sure nobody knocks on your door ever. His brother isn’t a prodigy for nothing.

But now he faces a dilemma. He contemplates the spare key (2.0) in his hand and fights down his own self-preservation instincts. Time and miserable experience have taught him that barging into his brother’s apartment is an exercise in suffering for everyone involved (mostly Sasuke), but surely Itachi and his idiot husband won’t be getting up to anything with their daughter in the apartment. Surely.

It still takes him a minute to work up the courage to fit the key in the door and open it. And even then it’s with great trepidation (Sasuke reminds himself firmly that having children is murder on anyone’s sex drive; it’s a cliché for a _reason_) that he lets himself inside.

There’s nobody in the living room or kitchen, and suddenly Sasuke is afraid to announce himself in case Asuna really is sleeping. Itachi would probably kill him and make it look like an accident. He pads down the hallway in his socks, freezing as he reaches the bedroom door and hears lowered voices.

“I’m gonna drop her,” he hears Shisui say, sounding pained.

There’s the huff of a laugh before Itachi replies. “No, you are not. You should at least trust yourself with that much.”

Their door is open a crack. Through it Sasuke can see his brother and Shisui sitting on the edge of their bed. A crib has been crammed up against the far wall, under a window, but Asuna isn’t in it. Shisui is holding her with an expression that suggests she’s a time bomb that just started ticking.

“She’s so _small_,” he says, disbelieving. “And look at all that _hair_.”

“I know,” Itachi says. He looks like he’s really about to start laughing. “You say the same things every time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure my brain is broken.” Shisui looks like he wants to be gesturing wildly, the way he does, but his arms are full of baby. “This is a kid.”

“Your powers of observation remain impeccable.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. This is _our kid_.” He pokes delicately at Asuna’s nose. She sleeps right through it. “How can someone be so objectively adorable and yet so terrifying?”

Itachi smothers a yawn. Sasuke notices the deep bags under both their eyes. He feels slightly bad for eavesdropping, but it’s not exactly the first time he’s stumbled into it. And anyway this is the shit that comes of handing someone a key to your place and telling them _not_ to knock.

“‘Terrifying’ is an interesting choice of adjective to describe our daughter,” Itachi observes, dry.

Shisui finally tears his eyes away from Asuna’s face. “Are you telling me you _don’t_ feel spectacularly out of your depth here? That the thought of screwing this up doesn’t keep you up at night?” He pauses. “I mean, I know we’re not actually sleeping anyway, but for the sake of argument.”

Itachi looks thoughtful. Sasuke is genuinely curious to hear his answer—his brother has always been an overachiever, always struggled with the anxiety that came with his own absurdly high expectations. By all accounts _he_ should be the one voicing insecurities here, not Shisui, who’s always oozed confidence out of every available pore.

“There is an…enormity to becoming a parent,” Itachi says at last. “I already assumed that would be the case, but I don’t know that I was prepared for just how all-encompassing it would be. I can’t pretend to be entirely confident in my abilities as a father.”

“So it does scare you,” Shisui says.

Itachi smiles.

“Perhaps it would,” he says, “if I were doing it alone.”

Shisui doesn’t say anything to that at first. Instead he tips his head sideways to rest on Itachi’s shoulder, careful not to dislodge Asuna. It is, Sasuke realizes, a mirror image of the way they’d looked waiting in those uncomfortable hospital chairs for their daughter to be born.

“Y’know,” Shisui says then, in a voice so uncharacteristically quiet that Sasuke almost misses it, “if you’d told me a couple years ago where I’d be right now, I would’ve laughed in your face.” He closes his eyes as Itachi’s hand comes up to rest in his hair. “I love you a gross amount, you know that?”

Itachi opens his mouth to say something, his expression soft, and that’s when Sasuke backs away from the door. He slips back down the hallway and puts on his shoes and locks the door behind him.

He can visit his niece another day.

.

“Why are you calling me at work?”

“Sasuke, thank god. I need your help.”

Sasuke frowns, glancing around to make sure his manager doesn’t see him with his phone out. Shisui is actually using his name instead of ‘squirt’ or something else murder-inducing, which worries him.

“Help with what?” He grips the phone tighter. “Is it Asuna? Is she okay?”

“She won’t stop _crying_,” Shisui groans. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong! Is it me? Am I just the shittiest parent alive?”

Long years of antagonistic instinct have Sasuke wanting to agree, but that seems like a low blow even for him. Shisui’s been more high-strung over this kid than Sasuke’s ever seen him over anything, which is saying a lot, since Sasuke had been there for both the pre-proposal _and_ pre-wedding mental breakdowns. Exhibit A: Shisui had been outraged when he and Itachi left the hospital with Asuna after only a day (“They just let us walk out with her! There’s not even a _test_? We could be anyone!”).

At least he’s calling at a reasonable hour this time. Sasuke’s pretty sure he barely slept more than the new parents for the first week Asuna was home.

He looks around again—and there’s Orochimaru, bane of his workplace existence, headed in his direction to chew him out or grope him or both. Sasuke ducks into the break room, for once wishing Naruto were here so he could run interference.

“Just keep your voice down,” he mutters as he tries to become one with the coat rack. Now that Shisui mentions it, he can hear Asuna wailing in the background and it’s stressing him out. “Did you feed her?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. Burped and everything.”

“Diaper change?”

“_Ten_ minutes ago. Fuck, is she dying? She wouldn’t be crying for so long if she wasn’t dying, right? Should I hang up and call 911?”

Sasuke, who is currently trying to google baby-related shit on his phone and avoid his perverted manager _and_ talk at the same time (no wonder all the ads he sees nowadays are for parenting websites), takes a deep breath before answering. He reminds himself that Shisui is an idiot. He reminds himself that being one of the Uchihas blessed with brain cells comes with responsibilities to the less fortunate.

He rubs at his forehead and is proud of how calm his voice comes out (something else to thank his therapist for, probably).

“Have you tried picking her up?”

Dead air.

Sasuke pulls the phone away from his ear and glares at it. If Shisui somehow hung up on him after all that, Asuna is about to be half an orphan.

“Hello?” he presses, irritation starting to mix with concern. What if there _is_ something wrong with her? Sasuke’s not a doctor, just an idiot with a smartphone like everybody else. Maybe—

“I, uh.” Shisui clears his throat. “I picked her up.”

There is indeed a distinct lack of crying baby in the background. Sasuke counts backwards from fifty (the usual ten never seems to cut it when Shisui is involved).

“And you didn’t think to try that before _calling me at work_?”

“I panicked, okay? She’s delicate!”

“Not that delicate!” he snaps.

“Don’t yell, you’ll make her start crying again!” Shisui sighs, like he’s the one being put-upon. “We have to set a good example here.”

Sasuke really can’t tell anymore if he’s being fucked with or not, but either way his resulting noise of incandescent rage calls Orochimaru down on his head immediately. He rates that as a slight improvement over exploding into gooey, angry bits in the break room.

Honestly. He would tell Shisui to lose his number, except he gets a picture texted to him later as an apology: a selfie consisting of Shisui, obviously tired but grinning anyway, and Asuna, with her round face and big black eyes and toothless baby smile.

He crops Shisui out and makes the rest of it his new wallpaper.

.

“Are you sure about this?” Sasuke asks for approximately the thousandth time.

He’s pretty sure he sounds _exactly_ as dubious as he feels about this situation, but Itachi looks relaxed. He must have done some extra communing with Buddha today; Sasuke knows his brother is never quite this calm without some celestial help.

“I am sure,” Itachi says. “And so is Shisui.”

Shisui is still (apparently) in the car, having (apparently) _not_ been tied down in said car to keep him from bursting into Sasuke’s apartment, grabbing his daughter and making a run for it. So Itachi claims. Sasuke is skeptical.

“Is he, though?”

“Of course,” Itachi says without hesitation. Sasuke, however, is also aware that his brother is an excellent liar, and is thus less than encouraged.

The responsibility that’s been thrust upon Sasuke is not one he can afford to take lightly. After all, Itachi is an infamous micromanager of a parent (woe betide anyone who changes the thermostat temperature in Asuna’s room one single degree; Itachi will know and he will find you), so the fact that he’s letting his daughter out of his sight is a pretty big step for him.

Surreptitiously, Sasuke glances one more time around his newly baby-proofed apartment. Outlets: covered. Flat surfaces: devoid of any sharp objects. All three of his kitchen cabinets (he didn’t pick this place for its storage options): locked. Asuna’s food is in the refrigerator. Her toys are lined up like a small army awaiting orders. The temperature is set to _exactly_ 68 degrees, so Itachi’s paranoid ass has nothing to complain about there.

He’s done all the prep work he can. All that’s left is to keep both himself and Asuna alive for the next few hours. He can manage that, right?

“Sasuke.”

Sasuke blinks. It occurs to him that he’s been standing in tense silence for an awkwardly long period of time.

“Is this too much?” Itachi asks.

Sasuke would bite his head off for treating him with kid gloves if it weren’t for how obnoxiously gentle his brother sounds. Itachi has always cut him too much slack. It makes him want to be honest more than it makes him want to snap.

“I just don’t want to screw it up,” he admits, forcing the words out. He remembers Shisui saying something similar and kind of wants to die; they’re not allowed to have the same opinions on anything except for how great his brother is.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but Itachi just smiles.

“We would not trust her with anyone else,” he says.

And Sasuke’s face warms—having a kid has turned Itachi into an unforgivable sap and someday he’ll be able to make fun of him for it—but weirdly enough, the bulk of his nerves fade away.

“We’ll try not to have too much fun without you,” he says with a smirk.

“Do try,” Itachi replies. He looks fondly down at his daughter and brushes a bit of black hair out of her face. She burbles nonsensically at both of them, which Sasuke decides to interpret as approval.

Then Itachi leaves and Sasuke looks down at the tiny person he’s temporarily responsible for. Asuna blinks up at him with her huge dark eyes.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

She doesn’t say anything. Obviously, because she’s an infant and that would be terrifying.

He sits down, shifting Asuna in his arms until it seems like they’re both mostly comfortable, and reaches for a pile of books he’d stacked up next to the couch. Reading to her seems like an Itachi-approved activity, especially since god only knows what kind of garbage TV Shisui has been exposing her to (the man watches _Riverdale_, for god’s sake).

“I’m not a big reader,” Sasuke informs her, “so don’t expect too much. And I didn’t get any picture books, because you are my niece and I would take a bullet for you but I refuse to read anything from the point of view of a pigeon. My dignity’s suffered enough on behalf of your parents.”

Asuna is silent, but Sasuke likes to imagine she gives him an understanding look.

Not for the first time, he’s struck by the absurdity of it all: he’s holding his _brother’s kid_. A kid his brother is raising with his husband, aka their cousin, aka Sasuke’s permanent personal menace. His teenage self would have a stroke if he only knew.

Shisui’s voice flickers back in his memory: _If you’d told me a couple years ago where I’d be right now, I would’ve laughed in your face_. He gets it, all of a sudden.

“It’s weird,” he says out loud. “I never thought they’d get here. I thought for sure either Shisui would fuck something up—” Shit, he probably shouldn’t swear in front of her; she might be an infant but she’s still Itachi’s daughter. “—or Itachi would implode from all the family pressure or they’d strangle each other during the wedding planning.”

He thinks about it. “Or maybe accidentally poison each other at dinner. Sorry, kiddo, but neither of your dads can cook for shit.” Fuck, he did it again. Oh well; if Asuna’s first word turns out to be an expletive Sasuke will just have to pin the blame on Shisui.

“So the fact that none of that happened and now _you’re_ here feels…kind of unreal. I’m still getting used to it,” he says, knowing he’s not the only one. So far Asuna’s birth hasn’t brought any of their shittier extended family back into the fold, but Sasuke’s mother has knitted Asuna no less than six outfits in what he assumes to be a caffeine-induced frenzy, while his father practically _shed a tear_ when they came to see her at the hospital. Sasuke’s pretty sure he’ll never recover from witnessing it.

“Anyway, my point is that you’re pretty lucky. They fought through a lot to get to this point.” He clears his throat. “But don’t get me wrong, they’re still kind of idiots. Mostly Shisui. Feel free to make his life hell by the way; I’ve lost some of my edge to therapy, but you’re an Uchiha too so I figure you’ll have edge to spare.”

Asuna grins toothlessly up at him and lets out a peal of disgustingly heartwarming baby laughter. Sasuke feels something in the vicinity of his chest region turn to mush.

So maybe Itachi’s sappiness has infected him, or maybe Shisui’s weakness when faced with adorable (yet terrifying, Sasuke fully agrees with him there) children. Whatever. Bearing witness to their ridiculous love story has already destroyed whatever fearsome reputation Sasuke used to have, so Asuna might as well get used to it now.

“Fine,” he mutters, digging for the bottom of the book pile. “_One_ pigeon book.”


End file.
